


Obsession

by SilverNight88



Series: Death yearns for the Sea [1]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Namor the Sub-Mariner (Comics), New Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Armor Kink, Begging, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Kissing, Lap Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Neck Kissing, Obsession, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Situational Humiliation, after 50 years of sexual tension they finally fuck, doomor, foes to hoes, i just want these two to hate and love each other, seriously marvel let them just have more comics together, there is not enough doomor content out there and i aim to change that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverNight88/pseuds/SilverNight88
Summary: Namor goes to Victor for help, but Victor is in no mood to help the man who had spurned his previous attempts at an alliance. It will take more than speaking for Namor to secure Doctor Doom's aid but will desperation drive the Prince of the Seas to do what Victor has obsessed over for so many years?[Set during New Avengers (2013) #24]





	Obsession

The steady clink of the silverware as it was scrapped across the plate rang loudly in the hall where Victor Von Doom sat. His metal covered hand gently grasped the stem of the wine glass and with his years of practice he sipped it without spilling though the metal mask he wore. More scraping sounds as Kristoff speared another morsel of his meal on his fork and brought it up to his lips, his face smug as he took in the food and enjoyed it loudly. Victor did not remark on the smacking of his son’s lips and rather rude table manners _this time_ even though there was a guest among them.

All else was silent in the room. Doom did not make any sound more than was necessary as he stared over his wineglass at the Prince who sat down the table from him.

 ** _Namor_**.

The once proud Atlantean was weighed down with worry, his head hung lower than Doom had ever seen it. He couldn’t remember a time, in all of their meetings, seeing Namor this way. The killing of thousands of innocents had finally taken their toll on the Sea King. He had seen the horror of what Thanos had brought upon the multiverse. He knew that Namor was no stranger to death and destruction. The man had lived though WWll and had even brought New York to a standstill many times.

This was different.

The Atlantean, though he could be cold and uncaring, did have a human heart and at times it did weigh as heavily as the crown he bore. Namor did not eat. Victor did not as well, he was not hungry but he sipped more wine, the earth rich flavor rolling along his tongue. He knew what was coming and he _relished_ it.

He relished seeing Namor this way, his future in the hands of Doom.

Victor couldn’t help but admire the flawless physic of Namor. The Atlantean was beautiful, his tanned skin, handsome face, and piercing green eyes were more than enough for any person to stop and stare. His pointed ears and ankle wings should make a man look fey and delicate but there was nothing _fragile_ about Namor. He listens to Namor’s plea and then waits a moment for his reply to fully sink in the Prince’s pointed ears Doom announced that he was **_no man’s second choice_**. He left Namor sitting there like a bewildered lost child.

*****

“Go after him.”

Namor shot a glare at Kristoff who smirked as he took another forkful of food.

“He has made his position very clear and Namor will not beg again.”

Namor stood, his mind reeling after everything that they had faced as allies together he couldn’t believe that Doom would do this. _Then again how well did he really know the Lord of Latveria?_

Kristoff rolled his eyes as he dabbed the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“You don’t know him like I do. He **wants** you to go after him to ask him in private. He had to do this show for _my_ sake. Go after him if you want… or don’t. I really couldn’t care but thank you for the evening’s entertainment Prince Namor.”

Kristoff stood and gave Namor a slight tilt of his head before leaving the dining room. Namor stood a moment more before he swallowed his pride and walked after his host. The halls of Castle Doom were foreboding to many but not to Namor, he had been here many times as Doom’s ally, as his enemy, as his friend, as his prisoner. He knew the castle and its rooms well and it didn’t take him long to find its Lord.

Victor was in his library about to select a book for his evening reading, a large volume. Namor wastes no time lingering in doorways instead striding. Victor acted as if he was expecting him but Namor saw the slight widening of brown eyes through the mask’s eye holes, he knew that Doom hadn’t been certain. He stopped and stood for a moment, he wanted to simply leave, to walk out of the castle and Neptune help whatever happened to him but… he was afraid, what he had done… he knew that he was beyond saving but there were people he **did** care about on this earth, people whose absence would cut him like a blade.

So he stood before Doom and he said in a proud arrogant voice, “I will beg.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

Victor silently returns the book to the shelf and turns to face the Prince.

“Doom is waiting.”

Namor seethed, any chance of Victor letting him off the hook was gone, the man wanted to see him writhe like a worm on a hook. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, “Doom I-“

“No.”

“What?”

“Not like that.”

Doom moves to a chair that was set by the fire place, the flames inside burned and made shadows dance on Doom’s metal armor. The monarch settled in and steeples his fingers, as still as a statue, as still as one of his doom bots which stood around the room, those things… Namor hated them; they littered Castle Doom like an infestation, silently standing waiting upon their master’s command.

Victor’s voice is deep and commanding, “On your knees.”

Namor stared, then the anger he had swallowed earlier rose up, his fists balled so tight that his nails dug into his palms. In a seething tone he responds, “You cannot be serious, you would treat _me_ this way?”

Doom shows no emotion, other than the slight tone of amusement that tints his words.

“How else would I treat you _my dear Namor_? You did not come to me first, I would have treated you my equal had you done so, **no** , you came to me **_last_** showing that you think me unworthy. To make up for this slight I would demand that you prostrate yourself before me. If you cannot do this then the door is behind you.”

Silence fell, dark brown eyes watched him through the eye slits of that cold metal mask, and Namor’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth in anger. It took another few minutes of tense silence in which Doom and Namor had a silent contest of wills by staring into each other’s eyes without moving before Namor finally pressed his lips in a tight line and turned his head away. Shame filled him, but his fear of facing Thanos alone drove him.

*****

Victor smirked knowing he had won.

Namor stepped forward and then, while glaring daggers at Doom, he finally moved one foot behind him slowly sinking down to one knee, then the other, until he was on his knees before doom. He holds out his arms on either side of his body and he says in a mockingly arrogant tone, “I humbly beg you Victor Von Doom to come to my aid and help me rid the multiverse of Thanos and the Cabal.”

Doom’s smirk grows behind his mask, he felt the scars on his face pull with the motion; there was a tightening in his belly. The fact that he had the proud Prince on his knees caused a strange excitement began to seep into his bones. How many years had he watched this man? How many times had he tried to impose his will upon him? How many times had Doom lusted after Namor? Lusted for the power the man had… lusted for his body?

Long lonely nights in his bed had Victor often reaching beneath his sheets to find some relief and always there was the image of the sultry sea prince in his mind. Victor remembers the way his cheeks burned as his hand stoked his cock imagining Namor’s body writhing beneath him. His yearning to feel the Atlantean’s skin beneath his hand. His obsession with Namor had lasted for years and so often he would find himself in that position. Each time he would be disgusted with himself at the end of his completion, his hand sticky with his semen as he swore oath after oath that someday he would have the Sub-Mariner.

Now he had that opportunity in his grasp and Victor would not squander it. Oh Namor would hate him for it. The Sub-Mariner would be sure to get his revenge but Doom would not let such things worry him right now. His voice is soft as silk and he speaks his answer plainly and clearly.

“No.”

**“YOU DARE?!”**

“Hold yourself Monarch of Atlantis! Doom dares and Doom will not have his authority tested by any lest of all _you_. You have already proved you came to me out of desperation, how low you have fallen Sub-Mariner, now tell me… why on earth would Doom **ever** align himself with _such a desperate creature_?

Namor had been about to stand but Doctor Doom’s words halted his progress and he settled back so that he sat on his heels, his ankle wings protruding from his black boots, he watches Doom carefully.

Doom felt as though his skin was itching, his desire for this Atlantean had known no bounds. He can feel the anger, the hate in the man’s green eyes.

The Sub-Mariner is lost; his mind is blank as he tries to comprehend what had just occurred, never before had he been so humiliated, made to bow to another, even now his princely pride demands vengeance. His eyes move over the mask, its function carried out perfectly, Namor could not see any of Doom’s emotions, could not guess what was going though the geniuses’ mind. He feels all hope began to sink… then at that instant, for just a brief second, Namor sees the dark brown eyes flicker downwards to Namor’s crotch and then upwards again.

An idea came slithering into his thoughts, and Namor figured that this couldn’t possibly be more degrading than what just occurred, and perhaps, just maybe, he could find a way to secure Doom’s help. For he knew that it was either endure this now or have to go crawling back to the Illuminati, and he would sooner swim in oil than slink back to Reed Richards and the others.

“Perhaps my begging… was not what you really desired _Victor_.”

Doom nearly _shudders_ at the sound of his name on Namor’s lips; the accented way Namor spoke was enough to ensure that Victor’s mind flashed to thoughts of hearing that deep baritone screaming his name as he buried himself within the Prince.

Namor stands, he would not sit at Doom’s feet another moment. He didn’t take his eyes off of the Latverian Monarch as his fingers went to his golden belt, he pressed the clasp and the belt dropped heavily from his hips to hit the stone floor with a loud **clank**. He unclasped the front of his pants, and pulls them down, careful to remove the boots and take care lest his wings be harmed. Namor had never bothered with undergarments, finally removing his vest; he stands naked before Doctor Doom.

The entire time Victor is silent; his fingers still steepled as his own erection began to grow. Namor’s body was utter sin. Victor’s eyes roamed hungrily over the bared flesh; the fire creates a stunning display as the light flickers over the muscles of Namor’s abs, the entire man was nothing if not perfect in form in a way that Doom could never be again. His scars burned coldly as though simply thinking of them was enough for the invisible pain to remind him of its presence. Namor would find them ugly no doubt; _he was so damn beautiful…_

“You know, for a man claiming to be of great intellect you can very stupid.”

 Victor was about to answer him, to deny this, but Namor continued not giving him a chance, “You think that I could not see the way your eyes linger on me, there were times when I would wonder if you would ever have the courage to extend an invitation to your bed…”

Victor’s breathe hitches; he had not thought that his actions were so open nor that they had been noticed by Namor.

Namor’s hand wrapped around his cock and he raised a brow, “You enjoy this for now Victor there will come a day when I will have you answer for this night and the manner in which you have treated me.”

Doom’s voice is soft, “I have no doubt of that Atlantean but Doom will concern himself with such things at a later date for now you may… continue.”

Namor’s lips stretch into a semblance of a smile, something that is not wholly human, rather it is a sharp reminder that this man is nothing more than a shark in human skin. Victor almost forgets to breathe, _to have that man beneath him…_

 Namor slinks towards him, there is nothing teasing about his walk, it is purposeful, and determined. His belly is now level with Doom’s face and Victor does not look at the displayed cock before him, his own eyes keep to Namor’s face and the Atlantean slowly lowers himself once more, to kneel before Doom, naked and willing to do anything for his kingdom. Namor’s hands are on Victor’s armored knees, they creep upwards over the metal covered thighs to push back the dark green tunic, until the area where Doom’s armor covers his own privates is revealed. It is a simply enough mechanism to work, opening the armor to bare the flesh of his straining cock. Victor almost moans at the first hint of the room’s air upon him. He had been confined within the armor for so long these days. He watches with eager anticipation as Namor stops to look at him, Victor tried not to feel a flush of embarrassment as Namor’s lips quirked up at the corners.

Victor struggles within himself as Namor licks his lips and lowers his head, the fire shines on the Atlantean’s black hair, his darker half had been fighting him to simply get on with it. Doom was impatient, too long he had waited, meanwhile Victor wanted to savior every moment. He does not expect Namor to be cold, but it makes sense, the Atlanteans were water dwellers and so of course they would not be warm blooded, still the touch of Namor’s cold tongue shocks him, but it quickly warms from the heat of his own flesh. **_We are in control here, show this man who rules him, take him_** _!_ Victor pushes Doom back once more as Namor begins to work his mouth on him, the sound of wet slurping as the Prince’s head bobs up and down makes him clutch the arms of his chair, the metal creaked, nearly splintering the wood beneath.

Namor’s tongue is wicked as it works, slowly licking, and Victor is enthralled by the sight of Namor sucking his cock. One head reaches out and metal fingers run through obsidian locks, playing with his hair, Victor is fascinated find that Namor has a hint of reddish tint in his hair, and he wonders if the man had red hair as a child. He groans and finally cannot help but buck his hips slightly to drive his dick deeper into Namor’s mouth, once, twice, and then he feels the tip brush the back of the man’s throat but Namor does not gag. Victor feels for the first time in a long time the sexual urges he tried so hard to repress surge forth and his hand tightens in Namor’s hair, he pulls the man off his cock and forces his head back until the throat of his oldest ally and enemy is exposed. Namor’s emerald eyes sparkle with danger as he allows Doom to manhandle him. Victor can almost feel the hate coming from the man and he grins, finally, finally Namor would be his. He drags the Atlantean up by the hair to stand and his other hand wraps around the Prince’s waist, he pulls Namor down to sit on his lap.

*****

Namor will kill him slowly, someday, but even he cannot deny that there were a few instances in the past where he wondered what exactly lay beneath the man’s armor. The thrill of having someone who was stronger than him makes his heart hammer. There were so few people who could actually overpower him and now he sat in the lap of the strongest of them all. He knew Victor’s reputation, a man of unyielding will, one who would crush any who dared to defy him beneath his boots , and it only made the man more attractive in Namor’s eyes. He positions himself so that his ankle wings are not crushed, and he doesn’t bother to ask Victor to remove his armor for he knows that Doom would never let himself be so vulnerable. Namor’s finger traces the lines in Doom’s mask, it was expertly made, brown eyes are dark as they watch him, and Namor can see the shine of lust in their depths. There was a hunger there that he had never seen directed towards him and it made the Atlantean feel as though he was a small fish swimming in a large sea. He knew a predator when he saw one.

The finger moves downwards to the opening of the mask’s mouth and he slips it inside, he finds soft lips hidden away from the world and he traces them. A wet tongue greets his finger and Namor allows it to lick him, he does not move his eyes away from Victor. Slowly pulling his finger out he brings it up to his own lips, to touch them and it seems to affect Doom, for the Lavterian hands move from his hips to grasp his ass, metal digging into his skin, the cold armor doesn’t bother him for Namor had swum in waters far colder. Leaning forwards he presses his lips to the opening of the mask, kissing it, his eyes flutter close and he moves his body forward his bare chest presses against the armor’s chest plate, the large golden clasps’ of Doom’s cape feel as though they will leave their mark upon him. His cock now brushes against Victor’s bared cock. It is hot, and he moves one hand down between them to wrap around both of them, masturbating the both of them at the same time.

There is a low groan from the depths of the mask, Namor pulls back to look down between them, seeing the flesh slipping between his fingers, and Victor follows his gaze. There is a cold touch of metal against his crack and it follows the line down to where his entrance is, slowly circling it, before pushing its way inside, Namor let out a harsh grunt at the foreign item that moves in him as he continues to move his own hand up and down in a steady rhythm.

*****

Victor cannot process the emotions that surge inside him, lust, hunger, happiness, and desire all mix with anger. How dare Namor be everything he dream and more? He had expected that Namor demand he remove his armor, he feared it, for he could never do such a thing, he was too… afraid to expose himself utterly, but Namor did not, he accepted him as he was. The sea lord’s kiss nearly made him brave enough to try but things were moving too fast already and he was there along with Namor, he can feel the resistance of his finger’s intrusion, and he now he slides it in and out of Namor’s ass, working to find a way to slip a second finger inside, he did not have any lube, nothing to prepare the man for him except for this. Still he will not stop this for any reason.

**Take him now.**

Doom commands and Victor is helpless against his own desires. He moves the Sub-Mariner, feeling the loss of Namor’s hand around his dick, upwards his strength not an issue when it comes to move the tall man, and settles him so that his cock lines up with his entrance. Victor feels the armor is too hot, sweat beads on his forehead, but of course Namor cannot see this, the Atlantean has his hands on Doom’s shoulders, and Victor spares no more time. He forces his cock into the Namor’s asshole. The entrance is far too tight, but he continues, he cannot stop his own moans from growing with every inch of cock being driven into Namor’s body. Victor fucks hard, his hips bucking, and makes Namor bounce up.

**_“You are mine now Sub-Mariner.”_ **

He had never heard his own voice speak so harshly, so _urgently_ , as he did now, wanting Namor to acknowledge his dominance over him.

Namor laughs, it rings though the room, and one hand caresses the cheek of his mask. Namor’s voice is arrogant and Victor loves it though the response does not please him. _How can he love a man he hates so much?_

“Namor is never yours Doom. **Never**. You may have the use of my body but do not think you can hold the Sub-Mariner if he wishes to be free.”

Victor _knows_ this, yet his fingers dig so sharply into Namor’s hips that he can feel the bone beneath the skin, his thrusts hard again and hits the Sub-Mariner’s prostate, the sweet spot that makes a shudder run though the Prince’s body. The sight is erotic and the quiet of the room is punctured by the hard breaths through his mask as he continues his hard punishing rhythm. Namor’s legs dangle off the chair, his wings flutter quickly the sound of the feathers against his metal covered lower legs sounds like the rushing of a hundred birds trying to take flight. Meanwhile it’s all Namor can do to hold onto Doom’s cloak once more, his laughter is gone, it is a low whimper as he rolls his hips trying to force himself down, to have Doom deeper within him.

**“You are Doom’s. Now and Always.”**

It is Doom who is speaking now, Victor himself has retreated, into the small corner of his mind and Doom is triumphant. His victory is close at hand; his years of waiting have finally paid off.

“Never.”  Namor bites out even as he enjoys the cock buried deep within him. He is a wanton passionate creature, he takes his pleasure in any form he can. Even if that form was Doctor Doom, the greatest villain the world had ever known.

Doom wraps one hand around Namor’s throat, that perfect smooth skin, tightens it and repeats himself, **“Mine.”**

Yet even with the threat of being choked to death Namor does not show fear, his eyes are slits as Doom continues to pound inside him, _this prince, this royal brat, this gorgeous man is not human_ , Victor thinks. Namor was an otherworldly creature who had so much power in his blood, potential that was untapped and Doom’s heart pounds knowing that at any moment, the instant that Namor had enough, he could tear Victor limb from limb. He squeezes tighter, his hand cover the gills on the sides of Namor’s neck. Those delicate things were so easily bruised, he pulls the Sub-Mariner close and presses his masked face into his neck, his hand now moving to cover the back of Namor’s head, fingers burrow though his hair, and the scene is almost a parody, a picture of a lovers embrace but there is no love there, just needs and wants that Victor can no longer hold back. The smell of salty skin makes him want to press his face, his real face without the mask, against Namor’s neck, but he cannot.

*****

Namor let out a loud groan, his neck burned from Doom’s grip, and his fingers bunch up the man’s cloak as he lifts himself up and slams his body back down, feeling the fullness of the Latverian’s member drive deep hitting him again and again. Doom’s mask scrapes his skin as the mask buries into his neck, Namor cannot bring himself to care, he was far more concerned with his own pleasure, his cock was throbbing and reaches down once more to grasp it, jerking himself off as Doom continues rutting into him. Now there is only the sounds of their harsh breaths as each man tries to bring himself to completion, each too selfish to consider aiding the other, using each other’s bodies for their own pleasure. Namor’s eyes lock with a silent Doom-Bot that stands against the far wall. He feels as though it was staring at him, but he doesn’t let the creepy feeling deter him from his task. He whispers in a soft feathery voice that reaches Victor who lies deep within Doom, “Am I all you ever dreamed of Victor? Tell me.”

“And more.”

 Victor speaks softly making the tips of Namor’s pointed ears felt warm as they flushed red, and he was glad that Victor did not notice how embarrassed he was at the answer.

“All that and more my dear Namor… _my_ prince.”

 ** _Victor._** _Not Doom._ Namor could always tell which part of Victor’s mind was in charge. He liked Victor; Doom was… a necessary evil.

Namor closes his eyes, was he so desperate for any kind of acceptance that even fucking a man he had fought with on more occasions than once was all it took for him to feel fucking validated? Someone wanted him, _yearned_ for him. Namor reaches his peak, spilling his cum all over his hand and it sticks to the belly of Doom’s suit. He finally releases himself and buries his own face deep into the dark green cloak and takes in the scent of magic and books and blood.

Victor is not far behind, a few more hard thrusts and suddenly there is a heat inside him and Victor is cursing in Latverian, Namor smiles, he liked that he caused the man to lose control, to spill far more quickly than he would have otherwise. He arches his back and stretches before climbing off of Doom’s lap, the man’s cock is covered in his own seed and Victor lays against the chair the ragged breathing and half mast dark eyes tell Namor that the Lord had been satisfied. He moves towards his clothes and begins to pull them on. Dressing quickly he slips his feet into his boots, carefully taking time to brush his wings out when they reemerge. He can feel Victor’s gaze on him, it feels possessive, and he keeps his own emotions in check, his face blank except for the slight expression of boredom he was accustomed to showing people.

“I trust Doctor Doom that you are satisfied with the service I have preformed and that Namor can count on his old ally once more?”

*****

He was gone far too quickly, Doom could not hold him, so instead he tucks himself back into his armor, not bothering to clean himself, the stain of Namor’s own orgasm still on his armor. Like a brand. He watches the Atlantean take care with his wings as he dresses and Doom wonders if they are as soft as they look, Namor had never once allowed anyone touch them, at least not in Doom’s presence. His fingers twitch. He wants to hold Namor, to keep him, to learn every inch of his body, to caress those wings, to kiss those pointed ears. Doom wants… so much. He will find a way to get what he wanted. He always did. He was **Doom** and no man or woman in the entire multiverse could ever hope of stopping him if he wished for something to be done.

“You know that Doom is a man of his word as are you.”

The small nod from the Sub-Mariner is the only good bye. Namor strides out of Doom’s presence as though he hadn’t just been wantonly riding him just moments before, and Doom… Doom recedes; he is sated, satisfied, and silent.

While Victor cannot help but touch the evidence of their joining, bringing it up to his eyes, the semen coated on the tips of his glove and he shudders at the memory of Namor grunting in his ear. He will find a way to have the sub-mariner once more.

Doom swears he will.

Victor fears that his obsession has just become an addiction.

*****

Up in the control room, where Doctor Doom had a set of television screen monitoring and recording everything that occurred in Castle Doom, Kristoff presses a button and a small disk ejects. He whistles as he picks up a marker and writes on the DVD _‘Namor’_ before making his way to his father’s room. He leaves the recording of the night’s events on his father’s bedside table knowing that Victor would never speak of it. Yet if he knew his father then he had no doubt that it would be played every night, those doom-bots came in handy for getting different camera angles. He shuts the door and makes his way to his own room for the night. He could never understand why Victor was so obsessed with the fish man but then again Namor was very handsome. Kristoff doesn’t care but if this will keep his father somewhat happy then it is best he keeps a close eye on Namor in the future.

Nothing ever ended well when these two got together.

 


End file.
